Faithfully Yours
by spyess
Summary: Captain Nicholls and his secret betrothed exchange letters during the Great War.
1. September 2, 1915

**Disclaimer:** I do not own War Horse or its characters.

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September 2, 1915

My Dearest Evie,

It has been long since I have parted from you. I miss you more than you possibly imagine. I apologize for not writing sooner. There are no excuses for such a transgression, especially from your fiancé.

Every day has been spent in physical training and meticulous preparation. I am not permitted to inform you of my whereabouts or the particulars of our plans for fear of enemy interception, but I can tell you that I am safe. I know how much you worry for me, sweet Evie. The Ministry of Defence has merely taken the precautions to enforce censorship if they believe any message to compromise our ongoing operations.

Meeting the men stationed here, I have seen how they react in anticipation of the battle. Some are tight-lipped and taciturn, some cannot disguise their fright, but many appear to possess a restless excitation and unbridled enthusiasm that I am afraid I do not fully share. I am grateful and proud to serve this country, but many young men will learn that the battlefield is not the childhood recollections of fanciful games.

I pray this war will be quick to end. I can at last call you wife, and your family will finally know the nature of our relationship. Once we have won this war, they will finally accept me as their equal. I will make you proud, darling. For the time being, I have kept my ring locked in a safe. Though you may need no reminder, it is imperative that you are diligent to conceal yours.

Eagerly awaiting your letter,

James


	2. September 14, 1915

September 14, 1915

My Darling James,

You need not make me proud, for I am already proud of you. I am sorry I erupted in argument on the day of your departure. I wanted to stop you, but I see that I have been selfish. I would have gladly eloped, but you remain a man of duty and honour. Whether the war is won or lost, whether my family accepts you or not, you are meant to be my husband, always and forever more.

Igor misses you terribly. Whenever the back gate to the garden creaks open, he bolts there, barking in greeting, only to turn away in disappointment. Oh James, if you could only see his expression, you would understand. I have enclosed a sketch of him in this letter to give you a vague idea. Of course, he will forget you more easily than I ever will. Sometimes, the higher capabilities of our memories are our downfall, not that I ever want to forget you, dear James.

My sisters know not the reason behind my moroseness. I make excuses that I am unwell, which is not entirely untrue, for my heart is sick without your solid presence. My father and mother go on as usual – father with work and mother with her circle of gossiping geese. They pay me no mind and leave me to my own devices. I know you are still uncertain in regards to my father's future relationship toward you. I do not excuse his unkind words, but remember that he was raised under different circumstances. We are all the product of our upbringing, but we will all get along swimmingly one day.

I pray that the war ends in triumph and I pray even more for your safe return. I wish I knew where you are, but hearing back from you will suffice. Please be careful, James. I have hidden your previous letter and my ring underneath the hollow floorboard of my room. Worry not, even the servants do not know of this hiding place. Please send me a letter with every opportunity you have.

Love,

Evie


	3. September 23, 1915

September 23, 1915

Dear Evie,

You need not apologize. We were under tense circumstances. I merely desired a proper marriage – one that will be acknowledged by friends and family in harmony. To elope would have signified that our marriage was a union that one ought to be ashamed of. No Evie, we shall never be ashamed.

Your artistry is as always masterful. Igor certainly has a subtle mien of forlornness. I could not help but let out a laugh. The men were wondering what was so funny, yet they did not understand. They did not know of Igor and his silly antics. I am glad to hear that your sisters are doing well. As for your father, Evie, you always see the best in everyone and that is what makes you so special – that you love me is proof enough. But he holds such an unrelenting prejudice towards men of the military that I fear that he will never accept me completely.

It is getting late. I must retire to bed. You will be in my dreams tonight.

Yours truly,

James


	4. September 31, 1915

September 31, 1915

Dearest Evie,

I was thinking one day of when we first met. I suppose the call of battle makes one summon vital events of the past to make meaning of them. A friend invited me to your father's party. Being the hog I was, the promise of gratuitous hors d'oeuvres and fine wine enticed me. I also admit I am interested in looking into houses of grandiosity and wealth, for they offer insight into the people who inhabit them. My friend lied to the greeter, citing that I was a business associate of your father and that my invitation had been lost en route. Although I am a proponent of truth, I am grateful for this falsehood, for we may have very well never met.

At some point, you were been trying to catch Igor because none of the servants could catch that little scamp. Fox terriers can be such trouble-makers. When you knocked over that expensive vase, I swear that your eyes were going to pop out of their sockets and your face was going to burst aflame. As your parents hastened towards the sound, I took the blame, thinking that they would never see me again, whereas you would have suffered their ire for days to come. If you had not broken that vase, we may have never met as well. All our actions have consequences, and every action has led us to each other.

That was how it all started, was it not? With a resounding crash of broken glass worth more than my arm alone, as your mother put it? Out in the garden we strolled away from prying eyes. Evie, you are the most beguiling and beautiful creature I have ever met. If you have cast a spell upon me, I hope you never release me.

Forever yours,

James


	5. October 15, 1915

October 15, 1915

Dear James,

I would gladly break a thousand vases so that you may keep your arm. But you took it all in stride, apologizing without alarm and responding with a dignity and grace that they lacked. My sisters, as different as night and day, thought you provided some amusement to a rather dull gathering. Emily looked on with mirth while Catherine was rather besotted by your eyes. As she put it, they were like the "crashing waves of the Caribbean blue."

And in an endeavour be poetic like Catherine whom I am sorrowfully not, I must say I miss you like the desert needs the rain. If you are laughing at my poor attempt, I shall lend the words of another. As Beethoven once wrote, "ever thine, ever mine, ever ours." I used to believe all of us were born complete. Then I met you and learned that I have been waiting for you all this time – waiting to be complete and reborn. Since our first encounter, I knew this to be true. Never do you dismiss my opinions as though they were the ravings of a simple-minded child. Never do you fail to make smile when I am troubled. You give regardless of how undeserving I am your generosity. You cherish what you have and never begrudge those who have more. Think of this as you enter the battlefield. It is difficult to conceive that a man with such a pure heart could go to war.

Missing you terribly,

Evie


	6. November 1, 1915

November 1, 1915

Dearest Evie,

I have returned from battle unharmed. Your unwavering faith and your abiding love have empowered me to endure this great trial. Flowery poetry is not necessary for romantic sentiments; it is for those who wish to hide what they mean. Because of your directness, I know you as much as I know myself. Take comfort knowing that I am proud to serve my country as I fight for you, for us. I dream of our house near the lakeside like you always desired. I dream of our children who will live in peace and harmony. I see our son with your sweet disposition. I see our daughter with your warm eyes.

I must admit that writing letters to families of the deceased soldiers have left me greatly saddened. If this letter does not get to you in time, I wish you a happy birthday. You will tell me all about your eighteenth birthday party. Any sense of normalcy will surely cheer me up. I wish I could send you a proper present but I suppose that the enclosed flower will do. You are the light in the impenetrable darkness. Know that I am dreaming of you.

James


	7. December 3, 1915

December 3, 1915

Darling James,

The best birthday present I have ever received is the fortuitous arrival of your letter. Wherever did you find lavender? Catherine, ever the scrutinizing observer, caught me shedding a few tears and thought I was upset when I was actually relieved. I can breathe again. But knowing you are distressed has made me long to hold you close.

The party, like every other year, was uneventful as family came to visit. Uncle Christopher had imbibed to an excess and in his stupor, knocked over a plate. The crash almost equalled my own during our first encounter. No, that vase still remains that most epic loss in the household. The sound finally woke up Grandmother Beatrice with a loud snort, which made Catherine and Emily erupt in childish giggles. Father and mother endeavour to be more agreeable on my birthday, allowing Igor to stay for the festivities. Unfortunately, they have launched into a discussion of suitors and have started proposing a list of names. I wish you tell them that I am already spoken for, but I know you want to wait.

It is your vision of our future that has lightened my steps. I see our house. I see our children. Pray they never inherit my unruly, red locks. But we could have nothing and I would still be the happiest woman by your side.

Stay warm. The weather is cold but gets colder still. Let us hope the snow does not delay the courier.

Sweet dreams,

Evie


	8. January 4, 1916

January 4, 1916

My Dearest Evie,

I did not receive your letter until yesterday. Nearly a month of not hearing from you has left me in poor spirits. A soldier I knew very well died from an attack of mustard gas. His physical deterioration was one of the worst I have ever seen. It was admirable how long he endured the pain, but watching him slowly and agonizingly waste away...forgive me, but a bullet would have been kinder. As the light left his eyes, I felt as if I was faced with my own mortality, and it terrified me immensely because I would not have the chance to gaze upon you or hold you one last time if I were to die in battle. Writing a letter back to his family to inform him of his untimely demise made a difficult task even more unbearable.

Christmas was a pleasant change of pace. In the light of the holiday, I witnessed both allied and enemy soldiers play football in a land where once was battle. A few of my superiors were unnerved by the scene, but it elicited a chuckle from me. I suppose I have too much of a child-like spirit waiting to be unleashed. Regardless, as a higher ranking officer I was given orders to discourage such fraternization and announced to the lads that we were still in the midst of war – not that they needed the reminder. Still, there is no harm in a temporary truce, but I suppose it serves no purpose when it shall soon inevitably be erased by the continuing call of battle.

I should wish you a belated happy new year. I am afraid you will have to fend off your suitors without me. They are lucky to be graced with your company. I endeavour to keep myself warm with memories of you – holding you in my arms by the willow tree, your head upon my shoulder as we lay on the hillside, the first time our lips touched under the awning before the shopkeeper shooed us out in the pouring rain. My friends teased me but even they knew that you were good for me.

Forever yours,

James

P.S. I would be a proud father of red-haired children.


	9. January 18, 1916

January 18, 1916

James,

Your friend was lucky to have you by his side. Not many soldiers have the opportunity to come to terms with their death, for it comes swiftly and unexpectedly. At the very least he had your comfort and camaraderie in his last moments. It must have been incredibly hard watching someone close to you pass away in such agony. I know I keep telling you but please stay safe and do not be brave. Self-preservation is not cowardice. Forgive me, but I fret every day. Please never speak as if you will not return home. Keep reminding me of our past and imagining what our future could hold. You have always been blessed with an unbridled optimism I could never hope to possess and that is what makes you strong and enduring.

I cannot imagine soldiers engaged in football in this weather, but it most likely did very well in boosting the morale of many dispirited men. Despite the heavy snowfall, I find myself going out all the time until Emily scolds me and ushers me back inside like a good shepherdess. Christmas and New Year, I wander to the frozen garden, sitting on our bench near the back gate of the garden, which still squeaks with the gust. The season gives me such peace of mind, such beauty to behold, but as the white flecks of crystal fall from the sky, I grow ever restless indoors. At this very moment, I wish I could race you by the hillside and leap over the fence. It is one of the most exhilarating sensations in the world, running and running until my lungs burn and my heart beats like a wild drum. Of course, I could never keep up with your long legs or escape your hold as you caught up with me, not that I ever tried to stop you. That was the first moment you told me you loved me. You are my happiness, no matter what my father dictates or what qualities my mother believes determine one's nobility.

Be safe,

Evie


End file.
